


Blame Game

by potseluy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Escort Service, F/M, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potseluy/pseuds/potseluy
Summary: After an unsuccessful relationship with America leaves Russia devastated and alone, he finds enough solace at the arms of an escort he knows will not help his hurt in the slightest, but will keep him warm for one evening. Like America did once upon a time.





	Blame Game

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! To advise, I will be using italics for flashbacks and when characters are implied to be speaking Russian, which you will see promptly.

Water droplets rolled down the fogged window of the Lexus as it was perfectly still and parked in the rear parking lot of _Marguerite_. Ivan was wasting one more minute of the hour staring out into the vast arrangement of other parked vehicles due to a reason he couldn’t lay his finger on. Realising his mindlessness, he forgot about the vicinity and focused on checking the hour on his phone. Taking his phone would be pointless if the noise would be unavoidably deafening, so he veered his focus to the door and hid his phone in the glove compartment before stepping out of the car. He dusted and slimmed his suit manually and locked the Lexus as he walked towards the nightclub.

Valet boys were alerted with the Russian’s presence on sight and opened the double-doors of glass as he strutted through them without a word, but did give them a slight nod.  
  
Three steps into the nightclub were smoothly changing the Airbnb-like lighting into the commonplace strobe lights of blue, red, and yellow. Ivan squinted to find someone in the crowd but he did not stop to observe, as his acquaintance should be at the table of his choice and she had arrived much earlier than he. The interior of the dance floor was massively packed with sweating, wantonly passionate bodies grinding against each other, Ivan glancing at some raising skirts or gyrating hips enthusiastically swaying to explicit Jah Khalib lyrics. No, he would ignore the hypersexuality and meet with the woman.   


She was not difficult to miss. The description was sufficient information to point out from the crowd; wavy locks of mesmerizing blonde hair curved over her large breasts, like melting gold as it blended with a simple glittered, black and forearm-length sleeve cocktail dress that made the strobe lights worship her attraction; heels made her 5’11’’, as they were sharp, black enough to make her look like a hovering angel; lips as crimson as the daiquiri that had been handed to Ivan the moment she stood to greet him, and glistening eyes with blue lightning hues that see him with a hidden desire and joy-- and to top it off, her sun-kissed skin made her the most aesthetic specimen the violet-coloured eyes had laid themselves on in months.

Ivan could place the entire blame on Alfred F. Jones, for becoming an unabashed fool for blondes. Enchanted by her as he was, she was no different than his past several dates. Blonde, blue-eyed, well-endowed, lithe; agonizingly beautiful.  
  
Alfred F. Jones happens to be all of the above.

Plump lips greeted him with a kiss on his lips. She suggested they take two seats on the lounge bar, so they did, the mysterious blonde slithering her hand through the crevice of Ivan’s right arm and locking both of them together.

Two manicured and jeweled fingers raised to snap, catching the attention of a nearby bartender. Ivan was ashamed he had his date open a tab in his name, and she had meticulously pre-ordered two glasses of American whiskey for both. Ivan had asked her to order it. The glasses were poured in front of them and the couple simultaneously took their glass. Only one of them was taking their time and it would be Ivan; the last time he had had sex with Alfred, the succulent flavor of thick whiskey had remained in Alfred’s mouth.  
  
‘How do I remember such trivial nonsense?’

Before ever admitting that he was still emotionally and sexually attracted to his moronic arch nemesis, he would tear out his heart, but he would teach himself to be oblivious of any sentimentalism he held towards that wretched nation and only hurt himself with more questions, as the one burning his brain.

 

The whiskey was only a spec that has been haunting the Russian Federation for approximately a year on end: the blatant cold shoulder Alfred has been giving him since that tryst.  
  
For inevitable political reasons both countries had no control over, their flourishing friendship that had once began developing into romantic emotions dissipated almost overnight. They despise each other yet again.   


Just when they were on the verge of another passionate night, the younger nation had hesitated and it was over faster than it had started.

 

Soon enough, the whiskey will have him seeing the woman as the man that boils his blood in a wanton fashion. Tonight, the burning sensation is practically sizzling through his pallid skin. She knew, which is why she is in such a club tonight in such trepid weather.

They would continue to voice flirtatious banter with a fictitious interest in their personal lives for thirty minutes, but Ivan just wanted to head to their destination. Alfred’s hands are there in spirit and are gradually suffocating the man with each sip, but waiting was essential. It wouldn’t draw suspicion if there were any officers in the nightclub.

Finally, she had finished her glass. Ivan was reluctant on taking his time. He would need the taste of someone he passionately despised on his tongue before going any further with his plans.

 

She stood whilst her date paid the tab and rapidly downed the rest of the dreaded liquor and they began heading out of _Marguerite_ , towards the Lexus that was now slightly dried from the dribbling rain. Commonalities were trades as her date retrieved the vehicle door for her. The driver's’ seat was occupied accordingly. He reversed from the previous lot and onto the streets of Moscow.

 

In the car, the voice most radiant was of the blond woman whom now complemented various accessories in her view. Ivan was lost in thought and focus, trying to find Hotel Troika. From the diction she withheld, he knew he had made an immaculate decision to have chosen her. Eons knowing the jovial bastard nation that sardonically appeared in his mind from time to time, he had summed up his character and had found a woman he could easily be if it weren’t for the difference in anatomy and nationality.

 

If she could drag out his name with the exact arousing tone the American possessed and whisper sweet nothings with those unique, glossy, hungry eyes, he would propose to her immediately.

 

Texts perhaps the one he longed for has forgotten of were now played on repeat, like a severely scratched record, but no matter what he did, he would deliberately permit his memory to reminisce.

 

‘If you were only here babe the things I would do to you’, then a memory of their recent brawl would resurface. ‘Think of me when you touch yourself tonight... Every night’, the memory of Alfred moving inches away when he would reach over at least a centimeter made his grip on the steering wheel whiten his knuckles. ‘I love you’-- they had arrived at the Hotel Troika.

 

Russian mannerisms seldom faltered after handing the vehicle to the valet. Ivan held his date close, walking nonchalantly into the edifice. The process of check-in was finalized in a blur but he was paying no attention. He was hastened to take their room.

 

The elevator, now in motion and with closed doors, had successfully trapped the scent of the woman beside him, despite being in quite a seedy nightclub. Ivan made a comparison of the tedious length of time the elevator occupied to take them to their floor to that of a slow animal and her hearty laugh echoed in the rectangular space. To hear it was therapeutic, to say the least, so he said nothing and joined in. It could have been the lone glass of whiskey, but she was molding into an American. In his inebriated stupor, her hair was becoming short and she was gaining a cowlick. His laughter immediately died down and he waited for the ring of the elevator.

 

Carpeted floors delivered small clicks as he led the blonde into room 808. It unlocked and locked in a heartbeat.

  
  


She had become comfortable with stepping further into the dark room herself, but it wasn’t long before Ivan adjusted the brightness of the light, leaving it at the dim brightness of a sunset. The blonde sat on the edge of the California King with arms holding her up. Ivan walked in front of her stoically and stared at her in silence. Details of the romantic suite were ignored to begin discussing business.

  


“ _Kostya has told me what you want from me. It will cost you 110,000 roubles,_ ” she stated, crossing her legs and leaning her right arm to rest her head.

 

Ivan didn’t hesitate. “ _That’s fine. Your payment is already in the room vault in that bureau and the pin is beside it._ ” He pointed at the furniture. She turned her head to observe the bureau, standing from the mattress to walk towards her promised deal. An audible sigh was heard from where she was, seeing Ivan’s head turn out to see the skyline of his beloved capital.   
  
_“Oh, god,” was murmured in a broken tone as the recipient tried to hold on to his partner for dear life as both shapely, bare legs were swept off the gentle faux fur carpet and onto feeling the opposite feet as they crossed paths. Only Ivan’s arms and the window of this skyscraper was keeping him secure. He would not keep his hands to himself and it seemed the anxious young man would not do the same; pulling Ivan’s ashen-blond hair when ravishing Alfred’s neck was making the American’s pulses go wild, just to unceremoniously meet each other halfway in a ferocious kiss that neither knew who instigated first. “Am I a god to you?” Ivan chuckled dryly as he willingly ran out of breath._

 

_Alfred slowly ground as he swallowed a knot in his throat, finally uttering “Да, Ваня.”_

 

“ _Yes, I’ll do it!_ ” Those manicured fingers came into his view with a loud snap,  smiling in relief when the taller man gazed at her luminescent eyes for the umpteenth time tonight.

 

“ _...Very well,_ ” he nodded as to say he was ready. She stepped back to touch up her appearance with her sharpened nails, waiting too for the Russian whom decided he would not lay underneath her. That was fine, as she was an escort who was just there to grant him servility.   


It was known he would do the undressing for her and vice versa. The Russian Federation unzipped the dress from the blonde until it curved her rear. Seductive eyes of a heated feline were tracking his every move. Ivan’s violet eyes grew intense, glowing with desire as the sleeves of the dress let loose of their host’s supple skin, allowing the expensive article clothing fall on the floor and surround her feet. Skin of a virgin kept its caramel tone as it was exposed, bedecked in erotic lace that defined her well, figure so curved and alluring.  
  
She took initiative, her right hand cupping the back of Ivan’s head and pulling the man into a kiss, causing him to trace his calloused hands from her upper waist and carefully drag down to where her rump begins.   
  
Instantaneously, he groped her ass like a feather pillow, earning a yelp that had escaped into their kisses, but nonetheless, his hands stayed on the cleft of both her lower cheeks. Picking her up, he lifted her and placed her on the bed. A mischievous giggle escaped her red lips, looking up at Ivan when she decided it was time his belt had to go. Head tilted downward to where her position was, his eyes seldom budged from their private show. As she took the buckle and worked it off, an American had begun to replace her by the fault of stupid memory and he had found himself wanting to close his eyes, but to no avail.   


_Pearly white teeth demanded he gives his undivided attention to Alfred. He had his turtleneck raised by the youngin, held up by the youngin, and now he was being bruised starting from his naval and proceeding lower. The Russian was not able to close his mouth with this situation in hand and he could only claw at his lover’s bare shoulder in anticipation of taking him after hearing the hateful, vile promises of murder and overpowering exchanged between the two._

 

_Alfred didn’t dare stare at Ivan and his hypnotizing hues. They would attempt to convince him that what they felt was the abominable emotion known as ‘love’ and it was not true, it could never be. Instead of the wasteful shed of tears, they marked their territory on each of their skin. Alfred was already leaving his tracks. It would be his turn, but the wait to do so would be excruciating. Clicks of the belt echoed in the room as much as their heaving and it was over in a blink, to Ivan’s pleasure._

 

_Trembling, tan hands pulled down the burdening dress pants, and now it was time for Ivan’s shirt to go. Both united in throwing the grey knitted shirt he wore far from their space, along with the Russian’s neck bandage that the American would not bother unraveling and he unwarrantedly tore it in half in the thrust of two wrists._

 

_Alfred had been revealed the longest time. In the loneliest of night, he can still remember and describe every crevice of that godly body from a mole to the minuscule scars. Once upon a time, it was all for him; that body once begged for him._

 

_One layer now existed between Alfred and Ivan that they were both ready to set afire, but the younger nation didn’t mind. Now forming a mutual eye contact, his hand overlapped the older /nation’s agonizingly erect cock Ivan’s breathe hitched watching tan lips place an almost chaste kiss over the muscle in his hand repeatedly, then beginning to stroke as they glared incessantly at one another; resentment absent._

 

The blonde hair extended to cover the lingerie raising her breasts and it was not until now, while the ardent need enveloping her had her arms take him down with her. They sank into the mattress once she succeeded in bringing his mind back to Earth. Having the lengthy nails she owned demonstrated to have slight difficulties as her client’s belt still hung at his waist.

 

Lips reattached as her bare shoulder blades touched the oak sheets. It was electrifying to grope such a warm body, it was creating a challenge for the confines around Ivan’s erection. Taking a break from swelling red lips underneath him, his teeth took a mild bite from her lower lip to earn a throaty groan from her. Mouth ajar, he grazed his upper teeth from the curve of her chin, falling smoothly as the arch of her jawline met his scheme, clamping down on her defined clavicle with fiery want. Ivan pressed his left hand on her lower back and the other rubbing the side of her trembling left thigh.  
  
In his mind, he knew he would become her regular. Nothing was left to the imagination because of her repetitive exhales and peering blue eyes that recommended him to move along. A wicked smile curled his lips and he stole another kiss, quickly returning to her torso. One bite was immediately given to her fluctuating navel, feeling adrenaline take its course through his veins, but her mewls asking for more added up to form an emotion he didn’t decipher. The room echoed her voice harmoniously.

 

Ivan would not allow her to drink whiskey before they fuck again, as would he. A damned god was mocking him benignly as Alfred’s blue eyes flashed across his closed eyes.

 

“ _Braginsky..._ ” that sultry voice whispered, intrepid moans following suit.

 

Ivan was petrified to raise his gaze and forced his lids shut. His nose flared in anger and need of oxygen, exhaling his toxic breath on the exhilarated skin of his _feminine_ escort.

 

Why didn’t he stop the minute that man’s face cursed him? Replacing the beauty from Voronezh; with above average measurements and the visage inspired by Aphrodite with a _man_ is indescribably despicable, more so a pathetic and inferior American whom he wanted to devour whole. Livid thoughts clashed with sinful passions and he dug his fingernails into the colored skin.

 

_That voice_ cursed into empty air, unaware it was poisoning the man that was taking it all in. He did not want to let a _mere memory_ win over reality. Ivan shivered as his fingers scraped off fresh skin down, ignoring the asscheek he was tracing. The patch of skin where the Russian’s lips rested was practically scorching hot from the vapor in his exhales. As his nails reached underwear fabric, a warm hand had gripped his heated scalp and had tugged at ashen-blond strands without fear. Whoever owned the limb was not going to be ignored nor wanted to be, so it resorted to forcefully tilting Ivan’s hiding head to once again, possess his attention.

 

Ivan was met with the image of a hyperventilating Alfred, eyes half-lidded and lips gaping open perhaps from overwhelming lust.

 

What would he do now? He would give in to the American, _his_ American. From head to toe, inside in out, Alfred F. Jones would eat him alive and to please himself tonight, he would imagine he terrifies Alfred with this revelation the exact same way.

 

“Fuck me...” Alfred mewled bashfully, his eyes demanding, however. Ivan complied. It was as if his hands had submerged in snow as he let go of tremoring, muscular thighs and the black lace hooked on one of his nails. He starting with his loose belt buckle, fumbling with the latch as their gazes remained magnified. Free from any hostler, the Russian held his pants up momentarily to retracted a condom and a small bottle of lubricant from one of its pockets but threw it all aside from their entwined bodies for the while.

 

The American had enough of waiting and rapidly sat up to remove that colossal suit jacket, pulling Ivan in closer by the jacket collar, where they are chest to chest. Their heartbeats are seconds from being synchronized. The fabric wrinkled when slipping off Ivan’s broad shoulders and it had the blond man sighing with relief, albeit having his collared long sleeve to remove. Those violet eyes watched every clumsy unbuttoning, the licking of his lover’s drying lips, his body temperature as he revealed the older man’s body to himself.

 

How the moon had a strange sense of humor; moonlight shuns through the hotel curtains to hug Ivan’s scar-tattered chest. Not long after, Alfred smiled up at a regretful Russian who wanted to shield himself from the cerulean eyes that saw right through his soul. Seeing the morose expression now plastered across his face, Alfred leaned his head over to kiss the most visible scars. He let his lips stand idle on the peculiar fresh scar on the older nation’s chest, feeling the arch of the smile on the assuring kiss. The Russian only closed his eyes. The dress shirt and jacket had collapsed to the floor and Ivan took Alfred’s nape to press their lips together. He knew he was more desperate than his lover on this evening and he wasn’t ashamed.  
  
None of it is real, so he would make the best of it.


End file.
